


I Have A Rendezvous With Death

by Hannibalsimago



Category: Black Hawk Down (2001), Death Stranding, Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: #FreshMeatFriday, Bloodshed, Body Modification, DeathHawk, Drowning, Genocide, Guns, Kissing, Tentacles, War, automatons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibalsimago/pseuds/Hannibalsimago
Summary: Notes:  I have used the name of Hugh Dancy’s character, Kurt “Doc” Schmid and Richard “Alphabet” Kowalewski from the film “Black Hawk Down.”  This story is not based on the film, nor on real life.  The setting is from the first teaser trailer for the video game in production, “Death Stranding.”   I have no idea of what the premise of the game is, the rules of the universe in which it takes place, names of characters or the story line.  I mean no disrespect to any of the soldiers who served in the military who are mentioned in this story.  This is entirely fiction and is for entertainment purposes only.  I own no rights to the characters.Kurt aka "Doc" becomes a soldier for the resistance.  He meets a singular character - one who will change his life.  William Tecumseh Sherman (from the American Civil War) in a famous speech, quoted "War is Hell".   "Doc" finds out how right that is.





	I Have A Rendezvous With Death

 

'The art of our necessities is strange, that can make vile things precious' from Shakespeare’s ‘King Lear’ 

 

  
Kudos go out to purplesocrates, Messy-scandinoodle, thedarkofthemoon and nightliferogue for taking the time to read and comment on various versions of this work.  It would be a much less polished piece without your hard work and insightful comments.  Thank you so much.

 This gorgeous artwork was created by @le-wendigogo So much awesomeness for my story. The artwork is just absolutely incredible. I am so stunned by the amount of detail, expression and life @le-wendigogo was able to bring to this. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  
When he saw Parydis, he would have wept if he had tears left in him.  Everywhere he looked, all he could see was fire and rubble.  No that wasn’t quite right.  Indescribable corpses, human and animal in every manner of decay.  Once Kurt realized what he was actually seeing, it was all-encompassing.  He licked his lips and tasted ash.  

 

“Hey, Joe! Stop daydreaming! What are you, stupid? Get your ass in gear! The captain’s waiting!”  Kurt twitched, grunted in reply and shifted his pack as he stepped up his pace. 

 

As the unit approached the Combat Outpost, also known in military vernacular as the COP, Kurt was surprised.  It appeared squalid, almost derelict.  Of course, part of that was camouflage and the rest was necessity.  Given the limited resources of the area, it was a wonder it existed at all. 

 

Once inside the wire, Kurt followed his unit to what passed for barracks.  “Why is it so empty?  So quiet?” he asked the soldier next to him softly.  

 

“Just my luck! An FNG!  Ah, Christ, I hate this!” was the terse reply as the man lumbered off, leaving Kurt looking bewildered.  

 

A whistle broke the silence.  “Hey! Doc! Over here!”  Kurt’s head snapped around and his eyes lit up when he focused on the source of the cry, his friend, Richard “Alphabet” Kowalewski.  

 

“What the hell are you playing at?” growled the company sergeant as he moved to intercept Alphabet.  Deciding that caution was the better part of valor, Alphabet swerved away from the scowling officer and hurried down a rock-strewn incline to meet his friend. He grabbed Doc’s pack and threw his arms around the younger man.  

 

“Come on, Doc.  Let’s get out of here before I get disciplined,” he whispered.

 

Doc grinned, glad to see a friendly face.  “Still up to no good I see.” 

 

Alphabet mimed a “shhhh” gesture to his friend as they made their way through the COP.  As the two passed by a bombed-out building, Alphabet grabbed Doc’s arm and gestured for him to follow him.  

 

Doc stumbled as he ducked into the much darker hovel.  Alphabet guided him to a threadbare sleeping bag, placing Doc’s pack next to it and motioning for the younger man to take a seat.  “What’s all this cloak and dagger stuff?” asked Doc.

 

Alphabet grimaced, “Parydis has fallen. You know, you’ve just come through it.  The skeleton armies are killing any human they can find...and not pleasantly either. You know that too.”

 

Doc nodded as Alphabet continued speaking.  

 

“The orders are to stay out of sight during daylight hours and to maintain, as much as is feasibly possible, complete silence.  That’s why the camp looks the way it does. Make them think it’s empty, picked over, dead.  I was told to stand guard as the column was marching in, watching for THEM.” Alphabet shuddered.  “When I saw you at first, I thought I was hallucinating, seeing things. I had no idea you were still alive, let alone coming this way. Is Molly with you?”  

 

“No” Doc sniffed. “Bad ambush. I’m the only one who made it out. There are dead animals and humans everywhere. A lot of the water is tainted. If the skeleton army doesn’t kill you: starvation, dehydration or illness will. I’m lucky to find your scouts. This is the last of the resistance in this part of the world.”  

 

Sighing, the Alphabet continued, “We don’t have enough men to fight them off if they overrun the camp. We are losing the war and have few enough men for patrols as it is. We operate our guerilla war at night as best we can. There’s a briefing this afternoon for what’s left of the officers.  The rest of us get a briefing of our own tonight before we go on our mission.”

 

“You know,” Alphabet paused and turned his head to look toward the deserted street as if he had heard something outside. “Doc, I heard a rumor...that ‘Ghost’ has been sighted.” It was dark enough in the hovel that Alphabet didn’t see Doc startle as he mentioned the name. Alphabet rose. “Someone will come and get you tonight.” Moving toward the entryway, he stopped and checked the street for movement before slipping out of the hovel and disappearing into the camp.

 

Doc curled up on top of the sleeping bag, drawing the corners over himself as he drifted off to sleep.  _ Alphabet must be mistaken. It can’t be him. Just a story to boost morale. _  He couldn’t help feeling a frisson of excitement go through him at the mention of Ghost though and a faint smile flit across his face.  _ Still, if it’s true, it would be incredible if he were here. I’ve heard lurid tales about him all my life, reality crossed with folklore and hyperbole. Most people think him a monster. I don’t though, _ was Doc’s last thought before sleep took him.

 

A few hours later, Doc awakened chilled in the fast-fading light and licking his dry lips.  He needed to find water.  Adjusting his pack and slinging it over his shoulder, he picked his way through the debris to the doorway.  

 

Checking the sight lines, he saw a bobbing light coming his way. He headed towards it and as he got closer, nodded to the young woman carrying it. She waited patiently while Doc clambered over rubble in the empty street to reach her.  Doc saw more activity as the two of them approached the least damaged building in the COP.

 

Upon entering, everyone was given two small water bottles and something which looked to be hardtack. He grimaced at the dinner but thanked the soldier handing out the supplies.  Doc looked around at the small gathering.  He counted close to fifty soldiers and only four officers. “Is this everyone?” he asked the still silent warrior at his side. She nodded and as she turned to face him, he saw the disfiguring scar which ran along the front of her neck and up one side. She was young, late teens or early twenties, dark hair and beautiful blue eyes in a delicate but strong face. 

 

“Abigail, this is my friend, Doc. Don’t mind him; he’s a reprobate. Abigail was one of the first citizens we saved from Parydis. She’s deadly with a knife and has a fearsome reputation among the enemy.  Oh, you can thank me for the quality of your dinner. I told them to be nice and give both of you pieces without weevils.  Come on, let’s get settled.” 

 

Doc looked around, his eyes wide as they wandered up the aisle. Alphabet knew without asking what was going through his friend’s head.

 

“This used to be the old college classroom.  Where I brought you first, that was where the dormitories used to be.  This was the one of the first places bombed.”  Doc acknowledged the information, grunting in recognition as the three of them found the only remaining seats slightly to the left and quite close to the front of the room. 

 

Immediately, the right side door opened and three officers entered the room, followed by a slightly grizzled but highly decorated officer.  Doc knew without being told that he was looking at Lieutenant Colonel Jack Crawford who was famous throughout the region, even before the war, for leading humanitarian missions to the most hard hit regions of Parydis. 

 

Colonel Crawford addressed the assembled soldiers, thanking them for their service and signaling out some for commendations for heroics, his voice a genial rumble of sound, deeply comforting.  Eyes downcast, Doc nibbled his mostly inedible dinner during all this. Colonel Crawford stepped back and motioned for one of the other officers to take his place. 

 

A slim, dark-haired woman moved forward and began speaking. Puzzled, Doc looked at Alphabet and mouthed “Who?”  The older man leaned toward him and whispered, “Major Beverly Katz”. 

 

“We are going to be splitting almost everyone here into four equal companies.  You will be assigned various objectives spread out in the region over the next couple of days.”  Suddenly, a low murmuring started in the rear of the room.  “Did anyone hear me say this was up for discussion?” she barked.  Chastised, the room fell silent.  

 

Suddenly, Abigail dug her elbow into Doc’s ribs. He hissed and his eyes flickered toward her. She caught his eye and sharply gestured with her chin, pointing to the left. Doc’s eyes followed her directive. When Doc saw the man standing in the aisle, he momentarily stopped breathing: his pulse thudded in his temple. Doc’s thoughts jumbled, chaotic, frantic like a bird throwing itself against a locked window, battering itself near to exhaustion or death, the instinct to  **_get out_ ** overriding everything and failing to find escape, fluttering its wings futilely then, falling to the ground in hopeless resignation.

 

Heartbeat pounding, muffling all other sound, Doc guzzled half his water bottle in an attempt to steady his anxiety,  _ Too much _ , as his stomach rebelled and lurched. Rising unsteadily from his seat, Doc stumbled into the aisle, evaded the hands reaching for him and bolted from the room. 

 

Of course seeing all this, Major Katz had halted her briefing and looked at the newcomer.  He looked her in the eye and bowed to her in apology. The bow was a thing of beauty, of exactitude, a world of meaning within the gesture if one knew how to  _ see.  _ The bow lasted exactly seven seconds: he  positioned his torso  at an exact fifty degree angle with his head lowered for a count of five seconds, glancing at the major when the five seconds were up. She acknowledged his bow with a slight nod of her head and continued the briefing thinking to herself,  _ Whatever else you may say of him, he has exquisite manners.   _ Clearly dismissed and despite being brushed aside earlier, the man turned and followed the route Doc took out of the building. 

 

Meanwhile, a few yards away from the entrance, Doc was bent at the waist. His hands clutched his knees with whitened fingers.  His breath whistled and gasped as his lungs desperately tried to pull in oxygen. He futilely tried to regain his composure, slow his heart rate and put a stop to his panic attack.  He couldn’t believe whom he had just seen. Someone he only heard whispered stories about especially in the resistance; the soldier only known as “Ghost”, so named for his complete silence in and out of the battlefield coupled with his near-perfect kill record.  

 

It was said he was an excellent strategist in the field, a superb captain who commanded the complete trust and loyalty of soldiers serving underneath him.  He devised missions almost surgical in their precision which combined complete ruthlessness and an exquisite, almost artistic delicacy, but ultimately lethal against the skeleton army.  It was rumored that he was genetically changed, enhanced, engineered to be the perfect soldier.  Some stories said he even had some sort of mutation which was never explicitly confirmed.  Whispers about him were legion; stories about his exploits near legendary status. To see him in the flesh was overwhelming, his charisma palpable even at that distance.  Fearing disgracing himself in front of his idol, was more than he could bear.  Better to run…

 

Doc’s labored breathing masked Ghost’s quiet footfalls as he drew closer to the stricken young man. Ghost stopped and gently reached out his hand, placing it on Doc’s left shoulder.  Thinking it was Alphabet come to get him, Doc blew out a large breath along with a rueful chuckle.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. Thanks for making sure-”  he paused as he straightened and turned toward the touch on his arm, “-that I was ok.” He went pale as he saw who had come to collect him. 

 

Ghost pantomimed a ’ _ sshhh _ ’ gesture as he met Doc’s eyes and grinned widely, his white teeth visible in the moonlight and the smile reaching his singular blood-flecked brown eyes.  Doc sighed as Ghost ran his hands across the younger man’s clavicles and shoulders, grounding and steadying him. At Ghost’s feather-light touch, a sudden rush of endorphins flooded Doc’s synapses and he calmed down completely.  Nothing in Doc’s past experience compared to this unexpected sensation. Doc felt better than he ever did with Molly or with his pack of dogs, two of the most pleasurable things he could remember and count on as his touchstones in times of stress. Doc was aware of an almost inaudible susurration which emanated from the older man’s waist. 

 

Both men turned as they heard harsh breathing and a set of jogging footsteps. Alphabet skidded up short as he spotted his friend and his unexpected companion.

 

Alphabet panted, “I don't have long. Abigail and I have been assigned to blue squad. Everyone has been split up for tonight's action. You better head in and get your assignment from the Major.  Are you coming?” Alphabet looked puzzled as he watched the two of them stand before him. He had the idea that Doc was doing his best impression of a small furry animal who was hypnotized by a dangerous predator. “Listen, I have to head back or I'm gonna get my balls handed to me.”  He turned and jogged back toward the building, assuming Doc was following him, not looking backwards for his friend. 

 

Doc heard a faint “Come on then,” from Alphabet as he moved away and Doc had every intention of doing just that. He turned to follow Alphabet, breaking the older soldier’s spell as Doc’s gaze moved away from Ghost’s dangerously compelling eyes.  

 

But Doc was brought up short by Ghost who reached out his incongruously elegant hand and placed it upon Doc’s forearm. Doc’s eyes followed it up to Ghost’s face, where he studied the inky trails leading from his forehead, down past his nearly obscured left eye and over his exquisitely sharp cheekbones. He thought,  _ What is this compulsion I have to... _ **_see_ ** .. _.him?   _ Doc felt as if there was a tenuous connection between them, as if Doc was being lured by Ghost, or as though Doc was a fish only now becoming aware of the fisherman who shared his stream. 

 

Ghost studied Doc’s face just as intently as if Doc’s inner thoughts were branded upon his flesh visible for anyone’s view.  _ He is exquisite. No matter what the cost or outcome, I must make him stay with me. He is unique. I must have him body, mind and soul,  _ thought Ghost as he came out of his reverie. 

 

Discomforted by Ghost’s gaze, Doc wanted nothing more but to follow his friend back inside. As if reading his thoughts, Ghost shook his head no and held up his index finger in a “wait” sign. Doc heard a sibilant noise and started as he caught movement in his peripheral vision.  _ A cable? What the Fuck? It looks like a data/com link but I’ve never seen one so sophisticated. It looks organic. _

 

He watched, fascinated as the cable continued to hover over Doc’s arm as if waiting for a sign from Ghost. “So you want to link into my...phone?” Doc asked as he drew it from his pocket. “You know there isn’t really any reception. It’s practically useless.”  Even as he said the words aloud, Doc knew he could never leave it behind as inert, impotent as the machine was. It was all he had of Molly, the pictures and videos, their lifetime together. 

 

Ghost placed his hands together, palms touching in a “please” gesture. Doc nodded, knowing that his personal data was secured with his retina scan.  Doc had the impression the warrior had another reason for wanting to access the technology other than just data mining. 

 

As quickly as Doc acquiesced, he saw a data output appear at the far end of the cable.  The cable moved by itself, aligning the output with the charging port on the phone and connecting to the machine.  Immediately, the screen lit up and Doc could see streams of computer commands flashing on the display.  At the top of the screen, a flashing cursor waited for a nanosecond, then a message appeared. 

 

“Thank you for allowing this...unusual...request.  You may call me Ghost.  What is your name please?”

 

“Kurt...Kurt Schmid, but everyone calls me ‘Doc’”

 

A new message, nearly instantaneous on the display.  “Good evening, Doc. Despite what you may have heard, I’m not invincible.” Doc heard a low rumble of laughter from Ghost. “I’ve been asked by the Major to carry out a specific mission and in order to do that, I need a volunteer. Would you oblige me? If you say no, you may rejoin your friend inside. If you say yes, you need to come with me immediately because you need to be fitted with a bioport. Just here.”

 

At this, Ghost’s hand came up and touched the back of Doc’s neck. His fingers  _ stroked, almost petted  _ Doc’s skin just under his hairline, fingers dancing over the vertebrae. Involuntarily, Doc gasped at the intimately invasive touch, feeling all his nerve endings flare and come alive. He wanted to experience more of this, more of Ghost’s touch. It was as if he was a naked candle wick repeatedly being suspended and dipped into layer upon layer of warm wax. He didn’t want it to stop. He felt as if he was suspended in the air on strings, like a marionette with Ghost as the conductor. 

 

His skin goose fleshed as Ghost stepped in, brought his face close to Doc’s neck and deliberately, noisily inhaled Doc’s scent. 

 

“Did you just  **smell** me?” 

 

Ghost grinned widely enough for Doc to see his pointed canine teeth, his breath skittering against Doc’s neck as his finger tapped the display in Doc’s hand. Doc glanced down at the machine, tearing his eyes away from Ghost when all he wanted to do was to lean into the man and reciprocate the action.

 

“Difficult to avoid. If I can smell you, the skeleton soldiers can. And from much further away. You are a liability until the bioport is fitted. Is it to be yes or no?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Ghost smiled at Doc as he responded. He even seemed to preen a tiny bit, chuckling at his good fortune. 

 

Blushing and ducking his head so he wouldn't look Ghost in the eyes, Doc saw the display go quiet, the cable disconnect from the port and retract back to Ghost’s body.  

 

Ghost stepped away, started to move down the street and motioned for Doc to follow.  He led him to an overlooked underground entrance and stepped inside. Doc could hear Ghost’s footsteps picking up the pace as both of them descended the stairs.  Doc saw a dim light from below, illuminating the steps and causing Ghost’s shadow to dance on the walls of the stairwell as Doc followed behind. 

 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Doc saw a sealed door with an odd looking numbered panel located to the right of it. Ghost punched in a combination of numbers and placed the left portion of his face above the keypad.  Doc saw a light from the panel illuminate the inky blackness on Ghost’s face and left eye, the door opened silently.  _ Retinal scan, _ thought Doc. 

 

He saw a large room portioned off into two sections with the second area hidden from view by plastic sheeting.  He could see movement from that side of the room but was unable to discern more than that.  As Ghost moved into the closed off area, a woman in surgical scrubs approached Doc.

 

From head to toe, she was covered with protective medical gear with hardly any bare skin visible. She wore a surgical mask with a separate headpiece, its large, glass panel hinged at the top near her forehead: the glass panel came down to her chin and covered the rest of her face. 

 

“Please follow me. We need to get you disinfected so we can install the bioport.  It won’t take long, but we need to start now so you can get briefed.”  

 

She gestured toward a large, sealed, glass-walled vertical container, certainly big enough for a man to step into.  It was located close by a bank of equipment full of switches, relays, dials, digital readouts and computers.  Another medical technician, similarly dressed to the woman, wheeled a curtain around a stool near the container. 

 

Doc stepped behind the curtain. The medical technician clarified as he checked his clipboard. “Please disrobe. Everything off, please” Doc quickly undressed down to his boxers, shivering slightly, leaving his clothes on the stool. The medical tech apologized and said “It really does need to be everything. Sorry.”  Doc sighed, complied and stepped into the unsealed container.  

 

As his feet touched the cold, metal, interior floor of the container, the glass door hissed shut. A panel in the ceiling opened and a face mask descended towards Doc, but still connected above, suspended by a plastic breathing tube. Doc began to feel goosebumps and involuntarily, his testicles tried to crawl back up inside him.  _ Definitely, nervous _ . _ Someone needs to work on her bedside manner, _ gasped Doc, trying not to have a panic attack. Doc heard the intercom voice of the woman telling him to place the face mask on and breathe normally. She also said the glass container would be filled with a sterile viscous solution and the operation would commence.  _ Oh, God! This is so not what I signed up for. Well, how do you think they were going to attach it, glue?   _ Doc snorted in annoyance _. You just can’t say no can you? All he did was smile at you _ . _ You reacted just like a puppy. He whistles and you come running to do what he wants, rolling over to show him your belly, panting and wagging your tail.  _ Hearing a hissing sound, he arranged the mask over his nose and mouth, breathed in, closed his eyes and forgot the rest of the world existed. 

 

When he awoke, the tank was empty but he could see and feel traces of the viscous fluid everywhere.  He was supported by the medical technician who was briskly drying him off with towels while the surgeon was removing the breathing apparatus and checking his vitals.  Doc coughed and groaned, his hands fluttering up to his neck, feeling groggy as the anesthesia wore off. He couldn’t tell anything was much different from before only his neck was a bit sore.

 

Instantly, she stopped and caught his hand before he could reach to explore the bioport. “No, I’m sorry.  You can’t touch that yet.  Not until it’s been programmed.  Please don’t make me restrain you.”

 

Blearily, Doc registered the fact he was being dressed while at the same time realized a figure stood outside the glass enclosure, watching him intently.  

 

Of course, it was Ghost, his eyes and upper face hidden but somehow, the man appeared ravenous, licking his lips with the appearance of a starving man anticipating a multi-course feast.

 

Doc stepped through the doorway of the glass enclosure, legs a little shaky, gait a bit wobbly.  Ghost reached out to steady him, one of his hands grasping Doc’s right elbow as he guided him to a waiting seat. 

 

The surgeon checked something on the back of Doc’s neck and said to Ghost, “You may begin.”  Ghost moved around to stand behind him, as his fingers moved upwards from his elbow to Doc’s shoulder, settling on his clavicle with his thumb on one side of Doc’s neck.  

 

Doc thought he heard a faint, brief raspy noise just at the fringes of hearing.  _ I must be hearing things. Maybe my ears still have some fluid in them,  _ thought Doc as he attempted to move his head.  Ghost hissed angrily and his fingers clutched harder to keep Doc’s head steady. Annoyed, Doc grunted in pain and heard an incongruous sound - the sound of buttons being unfastened, clothing rustling.  Then, Doc felt Ghost’s other hand clutch the left side of his neck, truly immobilizing him and preventing any movement. 

 

He was completely unprepared for what came next. He heard the sibilant sound again and felt something  **_alien_ ** touch him at the newly installed bioport. Whatever it was, it was  **wet** , slick, ticklish, hot.  At first he thought,  **_HE’S LICKING ME_ ** ?!  Doc blinked then and with that, everything  _ changed.  _

 

Doc spasmed in reaction as if in orgasm, his spine arching, head still immobilized. It wasn’t just a physical touch, it was everything: mental, emotional and physical all at once. Then came the sudden realization that Ghost was just as affected as Doc. It was testament to Ghost’s level of control that any outside observer would be oblivious to the fact that a physical, emotional and mental tsunami was roiling back and forth across the neural connection between Doc and Ghost. Within the tiny portion of Ghost’s mind that was still human, something dark howled with exultation at the connection with Doc and scratched at its fetters madly, wanting to be released. 

 

Doc could  _ hear _ Ghost but the only sounds in the room were Doc’s speeding breaths, creaks from the chair and that sibilant noise. He heard Ghost in his head, his voice rough with emotion, some exotic European accent.  If a voice could sound as decadent as a chocolate caramel with a whiskey center, that was Ghost’s voice.

 

“Doc, don’t fight me. I’m sorry!  I know you are uncomfortable and you just told me that it feels like ants walking around in your head. That sensation won’t last long. Please. I need to establish the neural connections and I can’t be this vulnerable in the field. If you relax and let me finish, I’ll be gone before you know it.”  

 

Knowing the truth of this, reading Ghost’s emotions as well as hearing his voice, he relaxed imperceptibly at first and then moved his head forward so Ghost would have better access to the bioport. 

 

Doc blinked again, similar to the way his cat used to look at him and blink, all slow and double lidded with pleasure.  He could  _ see _ what Ghost saw through his eyes.  He could see the computer data input in his left eye processing data at an incredible speed.  He could see the bioport and the back of his own neck. In his peripheral vision, he could see the medical personnel.  He could see his cable -- _ no, that’s not a cable _ came the realization. Ghost’s tentacle was inside his bioport.  

 

“Yessss” came Ghost’s answer and Doc could feel him grin as the ramification hit home.

 

As the neural connections solidified, Doc was able to process more and more data at higher and quicker speeds. It was similar to having lightning flick around the inside of your skull but not in an unpleasant way. Doc realized he was processing the equivalent of an encyclopedias worth of data at speed of an eyeblink.

 

“My clever boy. This is how you and I will communicate in the field. Completely silent.  You will know what I know and vice versa.” Ghost hummed.

 

Information continued to flow. Knowledge of tactics, strategy, objectives, troop movements, personnel changes, everything that a successful operative needs to know in the field in order to make split second decisions to survive passed between the two of them in seconds.  In return, Doc supplied information that he had gathered as he moved toward Parydis. 

 

As he processed Doc’s data, especially his perceptions about the brutality of the skeleton soldiers (also, inadvertently, his memories of Molly’s death), Ghost fleetingly remembered an autumn day. He could smell the decay of leaves, feel the warm sun on his face and oh, so very briefly remember the warmth of a little hand in his as they went into the woods for mushroom picking. He almost thought he could hear singing of a Lithuanian nursery rhyme in a child’s sweet, high-pitched voice but it was instantly snatched away. Ghost almost remembered her name; it was on the tip of his tongue. 

 

Ghost had lost so much. Vast sections of his mind palace now existed as closed, impassable or locked doors. He could remember pain as his body was operated on without the benefit of anesthesia, the better to track and test his perceptions. He remembered being changed physically with homologous grafts, too many to count. His revulsion, shame, anger, all laughed at by the rich sadist who paid for and authorized the experiments; who would only say  _ Because I can. I want to see if I can break you utterly as a piece of porcelain is shattered when it’s dropped _ , as each new monstrosity was committed upon Ghost’s body and mind.

 

Ghost was used to being regarded as a rapacious monster, whose bloodlust and capacity for violence was never satisfied. Among the American Indians, he was called “Silver-haired Wendigo” but never to his face. He was sure he had other unsavory names to go with the stories.

 

When Ghost touched Doc’s mind, he was drawn to Doc’s memories of Molly initially, because of the pain of her death. Pain was something he was intimately familiar with, both giving and receiving. But a larger portion of Doc’s memories with Molly were joyful friendship at first, then deepening into greater happiness, greater intimacy not simply sexual but completeness, a sense of oneness with Molly.  

 

Ghost had forgotten what it was like to feel gentleness, to experience intimacy, to be comforted, the pleasures of being in a relationship, of being loved, of simple friendship. So many things missing, locked behind those doors in his mind palace. Meeting Doc was like finding a key you forgot you lost among the rubble of a burned out building, a key that you never knew you needed to open long-forgotten doors.

 

“Ghost-” Doc’s internalized, awed voice breaking in on Ghost’s musing, “-you gave up so much for this ability. You are being used.”

 

Ghost tutted, “Yes, the choice was taken from me. I am only partially a man and not entirely free. I would rather retain my hard-won sliver of humanity  which accords me a small piece of free will. A minuscule piece of freedom where I am alive and conscious within a few precious rooms of my mind palace, completely my own self-made man. Better that than to be a shambling, mindless thing, controlled by another, no will, no choice, unable to die, completely at the mercy of another.” Both shuddered in revulsion. 

 

“There is one last thing and the neural link is complete.  If something happens in the field, you will know if I am dead or irretrievably lost.” whispered Ghost.

 

Doc knew that everything that was communicated between them would remain after the connection to Ghost was severed. He could access all the exchanged data as easily as if his own mind had initially created the neural pathways and imprinted the memories. He could feel Ghost gather himself, his thoughts, his consciousness and withdraw from his mind as the link was severed, as the tentacle physically retracted. At the disconnection, Doc’s mind wailed at being alone again, aching to have the reconnection established.   

 

As Ghost’s hands released him, Doc realized that what he was feeling was an overwhelming wave of feeling, of sadness, of being completely alone in his own mind.  He felt hollowed out like a blown-out egg shell, the sensation of  being completely empty in both his body, as if after a vigorous round of lovemaking, and his mind.  He felt like the top of his skull had been removed, his brain utterly exposed and naked and then rubbed with a small handful of sand, all the sulci and gyri hypersensitive and aching. He knew from Ghost’s data that this feeling was fleeting. 

 

As he sat recovering from the shared intimacy, he watched Ghost leave and walk into the curtained room. Sighing, he put his head in his hands rubbing his forehead, his hair and sides of his neck while avoiding the bioport area. Trying to bring himself back mentally from what just happened in order to get ready for the rest of the evening, the real reason he was here.

 

He rose from the chair and followed the  medical technician into the second closed off area of the room. As Doc passed one of the data panels, he saw only forty five minutes had passed although it felt like hours. He pushed aside the heavy plastic curtain and even though he knew from Ghost’s neural connection what he was going to see, he was still shocked and that surprised him. 

 

Ghost was kitted out in full military gear, helmet and standard weapons but it wasn’t what he was wearing or what weapons he carried that unnerved Doc. It was seeing Ghost surrounded by four skeleton soldiers and being completely unfazed at their presence. Ghost was in the process of tethering himself to them via the cables much like the ones he had used earlier to access Doc’s phone.

 

Doc realized through his more intimate neural connection that the mission depended primarily on Ghost and himself. The skeleton soldiers standing before him were camouflage, decoys if needed, extra ammunition, weapons and what little brain they possessed pressed in service to the resistance. They had been completely reprogrammed by Ghost to act on his command and his alone.  Walking automatons, marginally connected to the hive mind so that Ghost was up to date on strategy and tactics to elude capture and insure the success of the mission.

 

A fleeting remembrance flared within Doc of Ghost’s utter revulsion of the automatons.  _ Ghost knows exactly what being an automaton feels like, what it is, because he creates them. _

 

Ghost’s ability to command opposition troops by thought and will alone, along with with the possibility of a near-instantaneous, but primarily human neural connection, was why he agreed to change, to evolve, to become other than human . 

 

Doc recognized that Ghost was in extremis, he had gone as far as he could on his own. The mission was everything. The last hope the humans had to beat back the skeleton army. Doc knew that Ghost needed a partner.

 

No.

 

More than a partner.

 

Doc knew about loss and pain on an intimate level. That’s all he had left when Molly died. It took will and determination not to give up, to not give in to grief, to turn the anger outward as vengeance. Through the neural connection, Doc understood that Ghost was just as attuned to darkness, anger and grief. It was one of their touchstones, a unspoken connection on a primal level which existed between the two of them. It was the perfect solution for Ghost to seek a mate as dark, as corrupted as himself, finding in Doc someone who had become exactly that so together they could in their glorious darkness ensure the human race survived.  

 

Ghost had looked at Doc and  _ seen him _ even before the bioport installation with its resulting shared intimacy.  Doc barely scratched the surface of Ghost’s mind, but it was enough.  _ Everything that exists casts its own shadow. He is mine own shadow as I am his _ .  _ We cannot exist apart. One without the other. _  He knew if they made it through the night: they would always be together.  He also knew that “if” was a very big word given what they faced. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

They were deep in the woods, skirting any established roads while heading back to the center of Parydis...back to the sewers where Ghost’s nightmares began.  The four skeleton soldiers were fanned out in front and to the sides of Ghost and Doc. The mission appeared deceptively simple.  Evade detection, flank the red squad to the edge of the city, split off and access the sewers.  Follow them to largest research facility housing chemical and rumoured biological weapons.  Grab a certain set of plans,or barring that, irreparably sabotage the facility.  Find the tunnels and escape. The other squads would be drawing the skeleton army away to other skirmishes. They had forty-eight hours to reach the facility if they made it at all. 

 

Ghost motioned “stop” to Doc while instantly releasing three of the decoys to reconnaissance and report.  Doc saw the exhaustion in Ghost’s face, his posture only slightly slumped as the soldiers wandered off.  Pulling a water flask out of his pack, Docs handed it to Ghost, their fingers brushing briefly as Ghost smiled and nodded his thanks. 

 

Doc watched the foliage, his senses alert as Ghost stroked the longest inky tendril near his left eye, his index finger moving vertically in a preset pattern activating the data com link to the Major and accessing numerous rebel computer data banks and active battle com links. Ghost’s usually impassive face winced as if his mind berated itself for the flurry of emotions chasing each other across his eyes, then they fluttered shut as the data was uploaded, accessed and downloaded.  Doc watched his eyes twitch as if in REM sleep while the data exchange occurred. Ghost’s fingers danced over the dark patches on his face, severing the data stream and ending any conversation between him and the rebel commanders. 

 

Sipping austerely from the water container, Ghost motioned Doc closer.   One of the smaller tentacles snaked out from his shirt, the end of it wiggling about seeming to taste the air. Doc moved closer and the tentacle hovered over his back. Doc nodded to Ghost in agreement as the tip of the tentacle made contact with Doc’s bioport. 

 

“Any change in our plans?  Do you have any news?” thought Doc. 

 

“Ah, my impatient boy.” Ghost’s smoky voice rumbled and chuckled through Doc’s head. “No, nothing’s changed substantially although I have convinced them that to try for the plans is outright suicide and it’s far better to sabotage the facility. At least that way, we may make it out alive.”

 

Doc opened his mouth to say something but Ghost instantly silenced him by placing his index and middle fingers on Doc’s lips, just barely touching them.

 

Ghost’s voice whispered inside Doc’s brain. “How I wish I had known you from before. I would have read you poetry, Shakespeare, Milton, Dante, the Greeks. Ah, this is madness. I cannot do this and stay focused. I want nothing more than to drown in your eyes. This is the last time I can do this with you until the mission is completed or I am dead or lost. I will sacrifice myself before I lose you dear one. I cannot live without you. Know I love you, all of you, even the parts you thought you had hidden, dear Kurt, my dangerous Doc.” 

 

Doc’s mouth opened in a silent moan: his body shuddered upon hearing this. There was nothing more than he wanted than to have this be reality. His mind clutched for Ghost, frantic with need, wanting to hold him physically close, have his voice wash over him and finding comfort, a sense of completeness, of connection that he had never known to this extent before with anyone. It surpassed even what he and Molly had known.  Their minds were completely exposed to the other and a sense of acceptance, of love washed over them.

 

As the tentacle retreated, the neural connection severed. Doc looked at Ghost seeing his red-brown eyes, pupils huge and dilated, unshed tears threatening to spill over and run down his chiseled cheekbones, just the barest hint of a smile visible on his lips. 

 

Ghost pulled away first, composing himself, drawing into himself, putting his mental military mindset back on. He re-established his link with the quiescent skeleton soldier, reaching through the hive mind for the other three, mentally whistling them home to him, urging them to hurry. 

 

Doc saw the other three skeleton soldiers returning.  Ghost hooked up each one in turn, downloading new data and transmitting new instructions to each one. Doc caught his eye, checking to see if there was anything he needed to be told prior to starting out.  Ghost shook his head “no” and they started through the pine forest again heading towards the city.

 

Doc could feel the percussion bombs as a rumble through the earth coming from the west.  Not a good sign.  That was precisely the way they had to go to reach the sewers. Ghost became even more like his namesake. Doc wouldn’t have thought it was possible for a man to make less noise through the forest. They saw evidence of the skeleton armies advancement with the waves of animals rushing to safety through the forest, moving past them, panicked and stampeding.  They could smell the smoke and see the light of fires in the distance.

 

Doc sighed and he glanced at Ghost whose visage was set as though he bit down on an iron filling, angry and agonized all at once. Doc sent one of the skeleton soldiers out ahead to scout; the one that he had kept back before so if it was captured there was no data it could relay.  Doc knew that prior to sending it out Ghost wiped its neural pathways so if something happened there was no trace back to them. Slim hope, but it was better than nothing. 

 

The woods opened up into a small boggy clearing. Doc saw clouds of blue bottle flies and smelled the stench before he saw anything. He was glad when he did that there was nothing in his stomach. Gorge rising along with his anger as they advanced through the clearing. The outermost skeleton soldier stepped off a hummock and the connection to Ghost was nearly severed as he was pulled under the murky, brown water. It was purely by instinct that Ghost was able to prevent his rifle from being submerged along with himself.  He came up sputtering, spitting out the vileness, close to vomiting as he saw the pile of drowned corpses strewn over the marshy ground, both in and out of the water.  There was no other way around the clearing. Ghost reeled in the skeleton soldiers so that the cables didn’t get caught on submerged vegetation, spat out another vile mouthful, checked Doc’s location and grimly stumbled holding his rifle above his head, keeping it out of the water and muck. Doc had no choice but to follow his companion. 

 

Ghost managed to get himself out of the bog by grasping at small shrubs and trees at the end of the marsh. The skeleton soldiers had no trouble traversing the marsh, moving like automatons.  As long as the controlling mind was active, nothing would prevent them from moving forward, except their death. Ghost helped pull Doc out of the morass. They lay on the firmer ground, breath whistling out of their lungs as they tried to bring their heart rates down and continue their onslaught. Doc shook the water bottle at Ghost who refused knowing they would need it once they reached the sewers. 

 

Doc couldn’t believe his eyes when he wiped his face clean.  _ Those butchers _ . It wasn’t enough to slaughter whole villages; they had to torture the human inhabitants also. He saw the body of a young man, kneeling before a shallow pool close to the marsh. The skeleton soldiers had forced him to drown himself in the pool before they used his body for target practice. Doc did not think it was possible to hate anything more than he already did. He didn’t mention it or say anything to Ghost knowing from their brief connection that Ghost had seen and felt much worse. Making his way to his feet, he joined his companion in their march through hell.  

 

After the marsh, Ghost pulled up the little group, searching for the scout. Doc looked quizzically at the older man who shook his head.  Something had happened while they were in the swamp.  As they advanced, they got their answer. A desolate landscape met their eyes, full of craters, trenches, hills and precious few opportunities for cover. There was a very small section of what appeared to be a barb-wire fence sporting what was left of their scout’s torso. 

 

Ghost could see the fires in the distance, doubtless the percussion bombs. He gestured to Doc who nodded.  Their pace became even more hesitant as Ghost scanned the skeleton soldiers’ data banks for information about the mine field.  The worst thing was dusk was falling. Deciding it was safer to cross the minefield in the dark rather than broad daylight, the small group continued their glacial pace.

 

Suddenly, the sky lit up with a flare, high overhead.  Ghost hissed in anger and everyone dropped to the ground. Doc couldn’t help but reach out, adrenaline flooding his system, needing some physical connection, some solidity as the nightmare continued. His hand groped and found Ghost’s leg clutching it, suddenly the night erupted with strafe fire. Doc bit his other hand, to cut off his groan.  He felt the movement of Ghost’s hand as it traveled down his leg to meet Doc’s fingers. Ghost patted Doc’s hand and briefly caressed it as the deadly flickers of light passed overhead. 

 

Doc took what comfort he could from Ghost not wanting to distract the older soldier from processing data as his mind whirled. Ghost decided to sacrifice one of the skeleton soldiers using its hive mind to pinpoint where the machine gun bunker was located.  It crawled off laden with a couple of grenades and projectile bombs towards the bunker after Ghost wiped what was left of its mind. 

 

Ghost’s hand searched for Doc’s shaking hand still wrapped around his left knee.  Finding it, he gently pried it loose and held it in his own, making small circles within Doc’s palm with his thumb. Ghost hummed almost imperceptibly but Doc took what comfort he could from the brief contact and sighed with gratitude. He felt rather than heard him rumble comfortingly and smiled.  _ If I was in any place other than where we are… _ thought Doc and that’s as far as the thought got as all hell broke loose. 

 

Almost simultaneously, the strafe fire flared overhead again, and there was a huge flash of light and a “Whumpf’ sound. Ghost hissed and both men ducked their heads.  Obviously, the skeleton soldier and it's dangerous payload was terminated.  It remained to be seen whether or not it was safe to continue. When no more machine fire erupted, Ghost decided it was safe to move forward as he deduced the grenade and bomb had decimated the bunker. 

 

From what Doc could see, they were about four hundred feet away from reaching what was left of the bunker, just over the size of a football field. Ghost decided that it was safer to stay low rather than risk exposure. The two of them along with the two remaining decoys crawled in and out of mud filled fox holes, past god knows what piles of slaughter.  It was a blessing they were crossing at night Doc thought. 

 

And then it happened. As they got closer, the smoke from the explosion started to drift in their direction.  _ Oh hell, no _ ! Doc thought clenching his lips and trying not to cough reflexively. Ghost must have thought the same thing as Doc could see his companion’s chest move, his breath hitching as he fought not to make a sound. Ghost ripped a piece of cloth from his sleeve, the fabric making a purring sound as it ripped away from the seam. Without being told, Doc handed Ghost his water bottle.  _ God knows how I still have the thing… _  Ghost splashed the cloth with liquid, closed the container and ripped the sleeve in two, handing back the water bottle along with one of the pieces of cloth to Doc. Both men put the moistened fabric over their lower faces. It was small enough comfort but it was something.

 

Thankfully, the wind shifted and the smoke moved away from them, back toward the city.  Both men lowered the makeshift protection from their grimy faces. By now, they reached the crest of the hill and they could see the slaughter at the decimated bunker.  _ Got the bastards! _ thought Doc gleefully and he could see Ghost grin as he lowered himself inside the relative safety of the bunker. Doc followed closely after climbing inside the huge, crumbling hole in the side of the edifice.

 

Ghost looked spent, his eyes red-rimmed, sliding down one concrete wall, body shaking with exhaustion and Doc was sure he didn’t look much better. The two remaining skeleton soldiers went quiescent as Ghost disconnected the cables. His weary face sagged as his fingers traced and danced over the inky tendrils on his face. The com link and data connection was engaged with the rest of the resistance. Ghost’s breathing evened out as the internal conversation continued. Then as suddenly as it commenced, his elegant fingers completed their dance over his face and he looked to Doc. 

 

Doc reached out and took the silver-haired soldier’s hand, clasping it in his and moving closer to him, never letting go after all the horrors they had been through. He would take this short respite and find what comfort he could in the other’s company. 

 

Doc placed Ghost’s hand on his neck near his bioport. “If you want to, I won’t object.” Doc whispered. Ghost drew the younger man down so that his head was almost lying on the older soldier’s stomach. Ghost looked to Doc for confirmation and Doc whispered “Yes, please.” Ghost pulled his shirt tail out of his pants and Doc could see a fabric binder under the shirt loosely covering his abdomen and waist. He undid a small portion of the fabric and Doc watched as that very small, almost familiar tentacle emerged. 

 

Again, as before, it appeared to taste the air and wriggle with a mind of its own, somehow orienting itself.  Doc looked up at Ghost and smiled. At nearly the same instant, the tentacle established connection at Doc’s bioport. Doc could feel Ghost’s hands coming up to hold his head steady, caressing his neck and shoulders. Ghost brought his face down to Doc’s as his tentacle wriggled inside and established the connection between the two men. 

 

At the flare of connection was awakened, Doc thought “Yes, please” and in response, Ghost’s tongue barely breached his lips, deliciously sensuous,  while thinking the most obscene thoughts. Ghost hummed and thought “Ah, my sweetling. I need your water please.” 

 

Doc smiled at the endearment and handed the almost empty container to his companion who confounded Doc by finding a fairly clean handkerchief from some inner pocket. 

 

“Will wonders never cease?” thought Doc. 

 

Ghost chuckled. “Never doubt the power of a small plastic baggie to protect what’s important.” As soon as this thought reached Doc’s consciousness, he laughed as he watched Ghost moisten a corner of the fabric and gently clean off Doc’s lips and lower face, his canine smile growing larger as more and more grime was lifted away.  

 

“Let me,” and Doc returned the compliment by cleaning off what he could reach of Ghost’s face before closing the water container and tucking the slightly damp and a bit more grimy handkerchief back into it’s clean hiding place.

 

At the completion of this, Doc watched Ghost’s tongue slowly, but barely breach the opening of his mouth. Doc groaned with lust and his instantaneous thought, “I  **_need_ ** that.” was met with Ghost’s answer “As do I. Take what you need.” 

 

As both men drew closer, lips barely touching, Doc was overwhelmed with Ghost’s emotions and thoughts, a kaleidoscope of sensation exploding in his head, seemingly endless procession of ideas, generating tangents, opening up new possibilities, different emotions.  It was so incredibly erotic and intimate. There was nothing that Ghost hid from Doc and vice versa. Every emotion, thought was laid bare, an infinite array of possibilities. 

 

Doc found himself giggling like a drunkard.  “And we haven’t even kissed yet, but anything else would pale in comparison.” Ghost hummed in agreement and slowly drew Doc’s head backwards exposing the younger man’s chin where he nipped, lapped and sucked at the skin, careful not to leave any marks or bruises. 

 

Suddenly, Ghost pulled back, sitting upright against the wall once again releasing Doc’s head and ruffling his hair.  At the same time, Doc saw a mental picture of a curtain appeared in Ghost’s mind, closing off whole sections of thought.  A flicker of confused thought passed from Doc to Ghost. “Hey, did I think something I shouldn’t? Did I…”

 

The near-instantaneous reply back. “No, you didn’t do anything untoward. But I might have. I’ve been alone so long that I became overwhelmed and forgot some very basic rules of survival.  It’s entirely my fault, dearest Kurt and none of yours. I was, to put it bluntly, intoxicated by your physical beauty and your dazzling mind, enough to put us both in danger and jeopardize the mission.”

 

Doc struggled with this explanation, his face betraying embarrassment and shame. His eyes shimmered and his breathing sped up.  Ghost continued as his hands stroked the younger man’s hair. “Remember when we first met and you incredulously asked if I smelled you?”  

 

“Um, hum.” Doc whispered. 

 

“And I told you that you would be tracked if you went out into the field as you were?”  Doc nodded.  

 

Ghost explained, “If I kissed you, as intimately as I wanted to, as you saw in my mind. If I sucked bruises into your exquisite flesh, marking you for everyone to see. If I continued to arouse you, your pheromones, your very sweat, your breath, would all change. And so would mine. It would become infinitely easier for both us of to be tracked, noticed, harder to evade and hide from them.  I was so close to leading us into a very pleasurable, and dangerous trap. As I said, I was stupid.

 

I need to assess whether I’ve compromised our mission beyond repair. I have to temporarily disconnect the neural net while I access the data banks. Can you forgive me? I will do whatever I can to rectify this.” 

 

Doc rubbed a hand across his eyes, sighing in frustration as he remained still until he felt Ghost’s absence again as the neural connection ceased.  Standing quickly, he moved to the opposite side of what remained of the bunker, thinking to himself as he did so,  _ It’s not entirely Ghost’s fault. I acted like a horny teenager also. I’m just as much to blame. _  Determined to at least have some good come out of the situation, he resolved to look for weapons, ammo, maps, whatever he could salvage from the bunker.

 

Consciously ignoring Ghost, he continued his careful exploration through the debris placing any usable armaments aside in order to replace their depleted stores. As he explored he saw something which he would have thought impossible. He picked it up, giggling briefly at his good fortune.  _ I can’t believe this is out here! I’ve got to show Ghost, _ he thought. It was the modern day equivalent of finding the Lord of the Rings Mithril shirt. 

 

He checked the sight-lines through the machine-gun-turret window for any movement outside, seeing nothing and hearing only birdsong far off in the distance, determined at least for the moment, nothing significantly had changed.

 

In the meantime, Ghost’s fingers touched a black tendril high up near his hairline, well away from his customary communication locus near his left eye. He sighed as he accessed university and medical data banks along with what few POW diaries and prisoner interrogation records existed from the skeleton soldiers.  _ They don’t leave much data to mine,  _ he mused.

 

As near as he could tell both of them were reasonably safe. To ensure no future lapses, Ghost resolved to stay as far away from Doc while the mission continued.  He certainly wasn’t going to say anything to the young soldier.  _ He already feels ashamed when it’s my head-blindness that’s to blame. I won’t say anything to him about it, _ he decided, rubbing his fingers up near his forehead to shut down the data archives and erasing any record of the search.

 

Upon hearing Ghost stand upright, Doc gathered what armaments and supplies he had found and carried them to the soldier.  He grinned widely as he showed Ghost the shirt. “Look Ghost, it’s woven from nanotubes!”  Ghost smiled and indicated Doc should put it on under his shirt. 

 

While Doc got dressed, Ghost activated the remaining two skeleton decoys and attached the cables.  Doc divided what supplies between the two of them, noticing that Ghost stayed well away from him as he did so.  As silently as his name, the older man crept out of the bunker and started to make progress up the hillock. Doc moved to take up his customary spot, but Ghost gestured for Doc to pull back a bit further.  Thinking it had something to do with the decoys, he complied and thought no more about it. 

 

Before they reached the top of the rise, Ghost stopped the decoys, left them standing and crouched down, taking out his binoculars and checking for any movement. Doc was surprised at how close they were to Parydis.  _ We will be within the city within an hour, maybe less, _ he thought as he recognized landmark after landmark from his vantage point. He was also dismayed to see quite a bit of enemy troop movement which might block them from reaching the sewers. He noticed a large clump of trees off to the left of their current position.  _ If we can make the trees, we stand a good chance of following the river through the park to the entrance to the sewers _ , Doc remembered details from the map. 

 

As Ghost glanced back briefly toward Doc, Doc gestured silently with his hand toward the clump of trees, drawing the soldier’s attention to it.  Ghost nodded in affirmation and released a scout to the left.  It didn’t take long for it to reach the small wooded area, confirm a quick reconnaissance, gather data and return to Ghost who silently waited. Connecting with the hive mind again, the small group headed off toward the woods, keeping low.

 

Once they reached the trees, Doc was stunned to find how loud everything was.  Birdsong, animal noises, the noise of wind moving the smaller branches about, leaves rustling and primarily, the gentle gurgle of water, exactly the sound they were looking for.  The small group kept to the right of the stream, not wanting to cross it unless they had no choice, not wanting to create any unusual traces of fording the stream for the enemy to track and find them. Fortunately, most of the stream bed was gravel so they didn’t have to worry about their tracks for the moment. 

 

The small group was so intent on their progress that they pushed ahead perhaps a bit faster than was advisable under the circumstances.  Ghost obviously wanted to reach the relative safety of the sewers in conjunction with nightfall.

 

Off to the right, the sudden emergence of the covered truck filled with skeleton soldiers couldn’t have come at a worse time. They were pinned between the stream and the truck. Ghost immediately sent the decoys in a desperate flanking maneuver but Doc could tell something was  **_wrong._ **

 

_ Oh, hell, it’s all going pear-shaped _ . he thought. Doc moved as if to squeeze off a few rounds, but Ghost frantically gestured to the younger man to  **run** rather than fire his weapon.  Ghost flicked his left arm toward the stream and then moved it overhead and forward as if he was pitching a ball toward a baseball player in the box at home plate, his meaning all too clear.  

 

_ Hit the stream, run straight down the middle and don’t stop until you reach the sewers, _ Doc thought.  He did just that, certain Ghost would be close behind. Doc swung toward the left, splashed into the stream, kicking up rainbows as he raced through the stream bed. He passed the decoys and Ghost on his right, still on the bank. Doc met Ghost’s eyes as he ran and was pleased to see a feral grin appear on the other’s face.  

 

Doc paused briefly to help the Ghost into the stream if he should need it, wanting to offer any cover and awaiting the decoys.  He was hidden in a particularly shaded area of the stream and momentarily hidden from the view of the skeleton soldiers who pouring out of the truck.  _ Come ON, come on _ , Doc silently urged his companion to join him. 

 

Admittedly, the stream was cold under the trees. Doc was standing in water up to his shins.  Anyone would shiver uncontrollably in the darkness there, under the trees. Doc trembled and tried to keep his teeth from chattering. He bit his hand in the webbing between his thumb and index finger and was glad he had done so.  _ At least I’m able to keep quiet this way. Nothing to betray us. Ghost will be so pleased with me _ , thought Doc.

 

The skeleton soldiers ignored the decoys completely focusing in on Ghost who had retreated toward the stream as if to follow Doc. Suddenly, a burst of gunfire broke the silence. Doc was so proud of Ghost: his heart swelled as he watched his lover move and he forgot the minor pain in his hand as it was clenched between his teeth.

 

Ghost was so graceful, looking for all the world like a ballet dancer as he pirouetted toward the stream, on his dancer legs as his left hand gently brushed his face, his eye. Time stretched. Doc was sure, that somehow, his companion, his idol, his  _ mate, _ dodged in time. Doc couldn’t see a scratch upon Ghost until...he did. 

 

The bullet exploded through Ghost’s upper chest. Doc could see the arc of blood as it left Ghost’s body, echoing his lover’s graceful movement as his lifeless body fell to the gravel stream bed, all grace gone from those long, lovely legs, feet tangling in each other as he fell forward arms outstretched toward Doc, his gorgeous face empty. Ghost was gone, lost.  

 

Doc was gutted, shocked beyond belief.  Even when Molly died, he didn't feel as bad as this. It was the absence of Ghost’s presence in Doc’s mind that was the hardest to lose. Ghost’s luscious voice occasionally giving sporadic field updates, making wry comments was gone, extinguished.  Doc was alone again in his head and it was the most terrifying moment Doc had experienced in this horrible war. Doc wanted to shriek, howl, wail. Instead, he bit down harder on his hand, grunting in pain, tears flowing from his eyes and said his silent goodbyes to the best lover he’d ever known as he turned and raced down the stream. 

 

Maybe it was his grief that made him stumble. Maybe he had waited a bit too long and his feet were numb from the cold. Whatever the reason, stumble he did as he moved upstream. 

 

Quicker than he could think, the skeleton soldiers were upon him, eerily silent but ruthlessly efficient. He was cut off on every side. Panting loudly, injured hand hanging at his side, blood dripping into the water, Doc hardly looked ferocious as he shivered in shock, his teeth chattering loudly now.  _ No reason to be quiet now _ , Doc thought. It was obvious to Doc whom the soldiers had thought a bigger threat as they herded him past Ghost’s body toward the truck. Doc couldn’t help it. His legs gave way as the group came close by Ghost’s body.

 

Some animal was making an inhuman sound, a keening wail. Doc wanted to find out who was defiling the silence of the stream until he realized he was quite hoarse, his throat raw. “He deserves better than this! You can’t just leave him there. He deserves better! You filth!” Doc howled as they dragged him into the back of the covered truck, hitting him repeatedly with their rifle butts until he was unconscious. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Jostled none too gently awake, Doc was dragged from the truck along with some other civilians.  He felt like he had a migraine which seemed entirely appropriate under the circumstances. His torso ached as did his arms: they seemed to have borne the brunt of his earlier assault.  His stomach roiled as he replayed the late afternoon’s events in his mind wondering if he could have done anything differently.  He shambled away from the civilians and towards the side of the road, his gorge rising. 

 

When he had finished, he felt hollow but his legs didn’t feel quite so shaky. He was resolved to do what he could to find the sewers along with the research facility and somehow finish the job.  He owed that much to Ghost’s memory and to the resistance. A none-too-gentle prod from a rifle butt got him moving again. As if to punctuate the skeleton soldier’s message, Doc heard the rumble of one of their tanks as it herded the civilians down the wide avenue. The sky was twilight and sound carried better than his vision at the moment.

 

The enemy was ever present but mostly silent. Doc stayed near the fringes trying to discern a landmark or two, to get a fix on his bearings. If he lingered too long, a swift nudge from an enemy rifle pushed him onward. Around him, the civilians were a fairly representative cross section of Parydis, what one would expect from a large urban populace. Nearly everyone except for the very young (who were suddenly shushed) were silent as the march continued.  _ They don’t want us talking to each other: that’s obvious enough. _

 

The rumble of the tank was a steady drone in Doc’s head, threatening to start the nausea from the migraines again. And, it seemed that this area of the city center was more well-lit than the section they had just come through. Doc estimated that he had been walking about an hour since he was dragged from the truck. _ There’s still a chance for me to complete the mission but I’ll be damned if I can see the research facility. I think I know the direction but it would better to be certain. _

 

Doc wasn’t the only person who seemed particularly interested his surrounding environment. Doc could see a young man dressed in medical scrubs who appeared to be in his twenties. Doc could see his head, bobbing and weaving, looking through the crowd for anyone who was injured. He spotted Doc and started to make his way toward the young soldier.  _ I must look like hell then. Well, at least my outside matches my inside, _ Doc reflected. 

 

The young man reached Doc’s side and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Aiden. I’m a resident at the Hospital Dieu. What’s your name please?”

 

“Name’s Doc,” croaked Kurt in response. Aiden looked worried but grinned briefly. “Don’t get your hopes up; it’s a nickname.”

 

Aiden nodded, “The soldiers let me go through the crowd and pull out the sickest. Many civilians here wind up in work camps or get shipped off to God knows where. Come on: let’s get a look at you then,” he said as he drew Doc aside to stand under the nearest streetlight. “You don’t mind if I ask you to take off your shirt?” 

 

Doc grunted and started to unbutton, but couldn’t help wincing as he performed the simple task. Aiden stopped him almost immediately. “I’m so sorry! Here, let me,” he said as his nimble fingers undid the rest of Doc’s shirt uniform and drew it carefully aside. Next he lifted the undershirt, exclaiming as he did so. “God, you must have really pissed them off. You’re the worst I’ve seen in weeks. Do you have a headache? Are you seeing double? Nausea, vomiting? Ears ringing? Trouble breathing? Anything broken? ”

 

Doc grunted and held up six fingers. “Ok, the first six symptoms but not the last one?” Aiden confirmed as his fingers skated over Doc’s face, neck torso, back and arms. “Well, you’ve got a concussion for sure. Lot’s of pretty impressive bruises and possibly a couple of cracked ribs. I can’t tell if you’ve got more serious internal injuries though.” Aiden had pulled some linen strips from his medkit. “Let me wrap up your ribs at least. It will help you breathe a bit easier. That’s about all I can do. I can give you a shot of painkiller if you’ve got a migraine?”  Doc nodded his assent and Aiden’s fingers flew as he wrapped the bandages around Doc’s torso.   

 

As he worked with the bandages, Aiden continued, “Even if I were to take you back to the hospital, they’ve cut the power to that section of the city. They are systematically herding everyone this way with the power cuts and massive sweeps. What the hell did you do, Doc, to wind up here?  We hardly ever see resistance fighters.”

 

Doc’s face fell. “Got pissed off today when they killed the best soldier I’ve ever known. Listen, I need to know where the river is. I need to find a way to go north.” Doc rasped.

 

“I’m sorry about your friend, Doc. You don’t have to worry about the other things though.  The river is up ahead and this road leads north. You’ll get where you’re going soon enough. But you better not think of jumping off the bridge when you cross the river. It’s too shallow. You’ll break your neck for sure. They are herding everyone into the main square and just beyond that is the river. You know where you are now? Here, a quick painkiller for the headache and I’ve got to go.” 

 

Doc nodded. “Thanks, Aiden. Good luck. Get out of here as quick as you can. Something’s up. It all feels hinky.” Aiden shook Doc’s hand in farewell. “I will. I’m sorry about your friend, Doc. I hope you make it where you’re going.”  Aiden disappeared back into the crowd. Doc hoped the medic was able to make it to safety but he couldn’t worry about that now. 

 

Receiving another shove from a bony arm wielding a rifle, Doc was pushed back into the main column of civilians heading into the town square. He could hear a spritely dance tune completely incongruous for the setting. It came from a record player that hooked up to a loudspeaker, the music playing repeatedly over the square. All exits were blocked either by barricades, tanks or skeleton soldiers. 

 

Doc could see civilians being selected; women, children and the elderly were forcibly shunted into a large, rectangular, wooden structure obviously hastily erected by the skeleton soldiers.  The men were loaded into trucks which drove northward over the bridge that Aiden had spoken of earlier. Doc knew that whatever happened, he must not get into the trucks. He had a very good idea of what awaited the men who did. Doc resolved to look around for a weapon, anything would do, a brick, a rock, a bottle. Unfortunately, all available rubble was located out past the barricades. The interior of the square had been swept clean as if to prevent that very thing.

 

Suddenly, Doc was grabbed from behind.  One of two things, either he had finally pissed off the enemy assigned to guard him or someone saw his swelling along with the bruises and figured he would be an easy target.  _ Fuck! I don’t need this right now _ , he thought.

 

Ten yards ahead of Doc, a middle-aged man broke off from the ranks and attempted to make a run for one of the blockades. He didn’t get far: he swerved around a cluster of soldiers but got too close to the tank where he was grabbed, first by two of its tentacles and then two more. His screams momentarily drowned out the music. Doc closed his eyes shuddering; he didn’t need to see what was happening. The horrible shrieks and popping noises were all too evocative. The crowd immediately moved away from the perimeter, clustering in the center deciding that complying seemed a far safer option. Doc bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making noise. He didn't need to draw attention to himself. 

 

Doc had started to sag, feeling overwhelmed.  One of the soldiers took that as a sign of some sort, a need to teach a lesson perhaps. Doc’s legs gave way completely as the rifle butt caught him precisely at the back of his knees, pitching him forward onto the ground. Another soldier sauntered over and calmly pointed its semi-automatic to Doc’s head after motioning that he should lace his fingers behind his head.  Nothing more needed to be said.

 

By now, the trucks but one had been loaded and driven off over the bridge. Doc could just barely see the small rise which lead to the bridge. His attentions were directed back to the square which three-quarters full of soldiers. The last of the women were shoved inside the structure and the door was bolted shut. At some unseen, unheard command, the tanks moved forward.  The music abruptly switched off. Skeleton soldiers armed with flamethrowers advanced upon it. 

 

Doc cursed and sobbed as the genocide commenced. The cacophony was deafening. The glass windows on the building blew out which only made things worse. The soldiers retreated, their grisly work completed. Doc had fallen to the ground completely bent over, elbows touching the earth. He was prostrate with grief.  His eyes shut tight, his hands over his ears to block out the sound but nothing helped. Doc would have shouted if he had a voice left. 

 

Fully expecting to be executed next, Doc decided to raise himself to his feet. If he was going to die, he would do it standing.  As he rose, he dropped his hands to his sides, fingers itching to grab the semi-automatic and turn it on the enemy.  

 

Something odd, out of place, made Doc look at the skeleton soldier who was training his firearm at this head.  Doc saw the enemy rack his gun and then abruptly stop. If asked later, Doc would have said it felt as if the skeleton soldiers reacted to something out of range, that only they could perceive. Approximately one-third of the soldiers dropped as if they were puppets whose strings were cut. The rest seemed to have difficulty deciding what to do. Obviously, whatever it was disrupted the hive mind.

 

_ No time like the present.  _ Then out of nowhere, the thought came  _ Feets don’t fail me now. _ Doc began to giggle hysterically, clasping his hand over his mouth trying to keep the laughter from erupting. He felt awful, sickened by his reaction for laughing in the wake of what had just happened. As he got himself under control and his breathing evened out as he ran, the thought came,  _ Why couldn’t this have happened twenty minutes earlier? _

 

Doc sprinted toward the bridge. He saw the long embankment to the left of the structure and headed that way.  No shots were fired and no one came after him. The skeleton soldiers were still disorganized, still shambling about. He knew he needed to reach the shelter of the river and attempt to meet up with the resistance. What just happened had their fingerprints all over it.  

 

Doc just reached the embankment to the left of the bridge. when his feet hit some loose gravel.  What started out as a run turned into a very graceless slide, then roll, all the way down to the river. It’s probably what saved him.

 

Immediately, a massive explosion of light along with a KA-whumpf roar erupted from the region just northwest of the square.  _ Fuck! YES!   _ Doc thought just before the blast hit him. 

 

^^^^^^^^

 

Deafening silence came next. He held his hand before his eyes and wiggled his fingers.  _ Ok, I’m deaf not blind. _ Doc continued to assess the damage.  _ I don’t think anything else is broken but I hurt so much I can’t tell. I need to get into the sewers before something else comes looking for survivors. _  Doc tried to stand and thought,  _ Yup, that’s broken, _ as he shrieked and fell back down. He didn’t even want to look at the ankle.

 

The river looked oily, unclean but Doc knew the resistance was moving about in the sewers west of here. He had to try. For Ghost’s memory and for all the people he had seen executed this evening. He crawled to the edge of the river, lay down alongside it on his back and rolled himself off the bank and into the cold, oily water. He fought to bring his breathing under control. His whole body shivered violently with the cold although it did numb his ankle pain.    

 

He tried to find anything to use to help him float but it was too far out of reach. Submerged shrubs, tree branches, debris threatened to snag him. He couldn’t stay near the shore. He had to move out into the middle of the river. Getting more tired by the minute, the cold sapping all vitality away, he drifted more and more, caught in the current.

 

He smelt rather than saw the entrance to the sewer, the bricks covered with slime, filth and moss. There was no gate enclosure over it and for that he was grateful. His fingers were getting numb and he doubted he could make them do anything. It was still deep enough that he didn’t have to try to walk.  _ Hah, that’s a laugh! No walking now. It’s swimming or crawling. _

 

About ten minutes after he entered the sewer, he came to his first V junction. He felt air movement from the branch on the left and decided to take that way. Just as he did so, four things happened nearly instantaneously.  He felt a rumble as though an earthquake just occurred from the way he had come.  _ Uh, oh. I think the ceiling just caved in back there. _  Whereas before he could almost touch bottom and stand up on one foot before, the floor beneath him fell away and he was entirely suspended. It would have been a better description to say briefly rather than entirely as the nanotube shirt was heavy enough to drag him under without the floor to support him. Doc flailed about, trying to rip off his shirt and get the other garment off before it pulled him under completely. He managed to do both but not before completely exhausting his reserves, swallowing enough water to choke and losing his battle to remain afloat. Doc sank under the water in exhaustion, his arms reaching upward while he drowned. 

 

And then the skeleton soldiers reached under the water, and CAME for Doc. Some very tiny part of his brain said  _ Don’t scream. Whatever you do, don’t scream. I thought they were all dead? _

 

_ Ha ha!  You know the old saying don’t you? Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, _ answered his brain as it winked out. 

 

End of chapter one. 

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES: 
> 
> Parydis -my created name for destroyed city seen in the “Death Stranding” trailer
> 
>  
> 
> Military slang: Modern day version of “GI” is “Joe”
> 
> FNG = F***ing New Guy
> 
>  
> 
> Nanotubes. Carbon can be bonded in different ways that create entirely new properties. Nanotubes are seamless, cylindrical tubes of carbon molecules that can be as small as one-billionth of a meter wide -- yet up to 60 times stronger than steel. Cloth woven from nanotubes may provide for incredibly efficient body armor -- more resistant to projectiles than steel, yet light enough to provide protection for the entire body [[ Nanotube science].](http://science.howstuffworks.com/blast-resistant-clothing4.htm)
> 
>  
> 
> Title taken from the poem: “I Have a Rendezvous with Death” by Alan Seeger [link to poem](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/45077#poem)


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